FROM DEATH ROW TO DOORSTEP

Graphics

It might have played out like an ordinary story of a family dog accused of biting someone else's child, until a mysterious man wearing a baseball cap and a fake beard showed up at the home of Patrick and Amber Sanders, talking about secret codes and safe houses.

At that point, the complicated tale of Phineas, the yellow Labrador retriever on death row, grew well beyond ordinary.

Under quarantine since June 2012, he had “disappeared” at times – once when the city hid him. There was talk of a kidnapping plot and accusations of intimidation and official corruption. In this Ozark town of 5,000, where excitement can be as sporadic as a deer walking past a hunting blind, Phineas became a running soap opera.

He then vanished three weeks ago.

Enter the man with the fake beard, who appeared at the home of Phineas' owners three Fridays ago, claiming to have the answer.

Phineas, a gift from a friend, had been part of the Sanders family since 2010. The family named the dog after a character from the cartoon “Phineas and Ferb.”

An ordeal begins

His journey to fame began on a sunny Friday. Lexie Sanders, then 7, was eating a Popsicle in her backyard with two friends. Lexie clutched the 25-foot rubber-coated cable that tethered Phineas to a chain-link fence, but she tripped. The next thing she knew, she said, her friend Kendall Woolman, 7 at the time, was screaming and crying.

Lexie said she did not see Phineas bite Kendall, but the other friend, also 7, told police she saw him bite her left rib cage and drag her about four feet.

The town's code officer took Phineas that evening for what was supposed to be a 10-day quarantine. But the 4-year-old Labrador never returned.

After accusations surfaced of two prior unreported biting episodes, Salem Mayor Gary Brown ordered Phineas euthanized. The execution was delayed by a court appeal – and there was a brief, unexplained disappearance last fall – but reinstated in March by Judge Scott Bernstein. City officials quickly moved Phineas to a secret location – the basement garage bay at the fire station.

Running out of options, Phineas' supporters contacted the Lexus Project, a dog rescue operation based in New York state. A “Save Phineas” Facebook page quickly drew tens of thousands of “likes” (now nearly 180,000) and was the catalyst behind a rally and “Save Phineas” billboards on Interstate 44.

Kendall Woolman's family said they received threats. Joseph Simon, a lawyer for the Sanders family, accused a relative of the Woolmans of calling Salem “his sandbox” and threatening to exert his influence to make sure Phineas died.

Approaching his execution date in late April, Phineas got another stay when Simon appealed for a new trial.

With the case pending, Salem resident Jackie Overby said she asked the city administrator, Clayton Lucas, if she could usher the dog to safety. Days later, she said, Lucas showed up at her job and said, “We want the dog gone.”

In late May, city officials moved Phineas into Dr. J.J. Tune's veterinary office, but the doctor said he feared the dog would be stolen because of the attention. Sure enough, Phineas was missing when the clinic opened for business on the morning of Oct. 12. No sign of forced entry, no clues.

The Sanderses feared the worst – that someone had either taken the dog for ransom or killed him.

Enter the stranger

Concern and doubt festered, until a rainy night, little more than 24 hours after the latest court hearing. As the Sanderses cleaned up from dinner with their four children, the man appeared at the door, asking for them by name.

“I just want to tell you,” he said, “that Phineas is doing just fine.”

The man said he had seen a Phineas billboard and the Facebook page. Sympathetic, he snatched Phineas, the man told them, his fake mustache slipping down his face.

He asked them to set up a safe house, they said, where he could bring Phineas. He did not trust cellphones, so he asked them to activate a landline. When the safe house was ready, they were to post a sentence on Facebook: “I saw a dog today that reminded me of Phineas.” That would be his signal.

Amber Sanders posted the message Oct. 21; the man called two nights later from a disposable cellphone. He arranged a meeting for that Saturday.

With the judge's decision pending, the Sanderses were taking no chances: They planned to ship Phineas to an undisclosed location.

Yet, in a final twist, Bernstein ruled Oct. 25 that Phineas did not bite the girl and overturned the death sentence.

Still worried, the family kept the Oct. 26 reunion secret. The man, wearing his fake beard, arrived at the drop point before the Sanderses arrived.

Told they were on their way, he left Phineas and said, “Well, I've got to go.”

Minutes later, Salem's most popular dog was bounding into his owners' arms.

User Agreement

Keep it civil and stay on topic. No profanity, vulgarity, racial
slurs or personal attacks. People who harass others or joke about
tragedies will be blocked. By posting your comment, you agree to
allow Orange County Register Communications, Inc. the right to
republish your name and comment in additional Register publications
without any notification or payment.